


three summers and a crush

by popsick



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, gwen has a Major crush, thats it thats the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 04:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15655365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popsick/pseuds/popsick
Summary: Gwen has liked David for a very long time.It started when Gwen was made co-councillor for Camp Campbell two years ago.





	three summers and a crush

Gwen has liked David for a very long time.

 

It started when Gwen was made co-councillor for Camp Campbell two years ago.

 

It wasn’t a goldmine—the pay was average and the odds weren’t really big since Gwen didn’t plan on having a summer vacation anytime soon, considering her rent and the amount of food she had in her fridge—but it was something that she found that was fast and had taken her in, without any further questions or requirements on her resume. Gwen thought this would be a one-time gig, until she found another job that would let her get by.

 

But Gwen, in this supposedly one-time gig, had met the literal sun. Gwen doesn’t mean to exaggerate when she says this, she _means_ it.

 

She had met David.

 

The man was the sun personified. His eyes glowed green like they were plants that were dowsed over with sunlight and grew there in his eyesockets. His hair was red, like it was eventually burnt under the sun. His limbs were long and lanky and he just couldn’t stop being so _loud._

 

Gwen knew from the get-go that she and David would _not_ get along. For one, David actually _liked_ the food the Quartermaster made. And second, you could request him to sing the most bizarre and unheard of camp song and he would gladly do so, with all lyrics memorised, as well as their guitar chords.

 

Gwen didn’t know what to do with him, so for that first summer, Gwen ignored David.

 

It was hard, of course. David always had ways of sticking to her and talking to her, like gum or glue or hair on your scalp. Maybe the last simile is more accurate—Gwen had this split second of pain whenever she tried to separate herself from him, exactly like pulling a hair strand from her head.

 

But on that first summer, the only time Gwen actually had a conversation with David that lasted longer than five seconds was when he suddenly asked her if she wrote.

 

At _this,_ Gwen was surprised. David, despite his jovial enthusiasm for everything, hadn’t been too curious about Gwen’s personal life or leisures before that moment. She wondered why it was only then that David asked her, until she saw the piece of paper in David’s hand and a wider-than-usual smile smeared on his face.

 

“Oh my _God!”_ Gwen screamed. She sprinted from across the cabin to David, gripping her hands tight around the piece of paper and yanking it from his hold.

 

“Aw, Gwen, I didn’t know you wrote poetry!” He exclaimed. His hands were clasped together, and he was looking at her with those eyes—emeralds that shone more than they already had.

 

Gwen wanted to die at that moment.

 

She doesn’t know if it was because of the humiliation, or the emeralds.

 

“I- I don’t write.” Gwen tried to deny it, but David was quick to refute her with the evidence at hand.

 

“But I found that with a bunch of others while I was cleaning your cabin.” He said.

 

Gwen thrashed her head back up at David. She felt blood rushing to her head and yet again, she found herself confused—was she blushing or was she angry as fuck? Why would David be cleaning her cabin?

 

“You were _in_ my _cabin?_ ” Gwen said. Her voice coarsed as it got deeper with her glare.

 

“Uh-huh! I saw that there were papers everywhere and I thought you were having a hard time keeping up with the campers, so I wanted to lessen your burden!” David looked at her with a smile, and Gwen couldn’t help but flinch.

 

Gwen couldn’t argue against David’s statement. He’d even thought he was trying to _help_ her for Christ’s sake.

 

She couldn’t be angry, at least, not at somene like David that couldn’t even see what was wrong in this scenario.

 

This had left her with blood flushed on her cheeks and a deeply humiliated psyche that replaced her anger in a flash. Those papers on her floors were all poems born out of her boredom, and thinking about David picking them all up and reading them or even just catching a glimpse of them—Gwen felt exposed, and to the person she least wanted to be an inch closer to.

 

She sighed in defeat, “Just… don’t do that again. And don’t mention the poems, the kids will just laugh at me.”

 

Once Gwen crumpled the piece of paper and threw it into the bin, it was only then that David frowned, “Oh… I’m sorry,” He mumbled.

 

Gwen felt the gravity weighing down on her chest and both of her shoulders, seeing him like that. It was probably also the first time ever she’d seen David with an expression that wasn’t another variation of _happy._

 

But before Gwen could say anything in return, or react in any way of surprise (or weirdly enough, guilt), something from outside had made a loud thud that echoed through the wooden walls. It came from the mess hall across their cabin, and it made both of them jolt in place.

 

David was quick on his feet to put on his boots again and scramble towards the door, though he paused before stepping foot outside.

 

David turned his head around to face her, “But you know, Gwen, I don’t think they’d laugh,” He said.

 

“Your poems are beautiful.”

 

Another thud.

 

David closed the door in a hurry and dragged his lanky limbs over the mess hall, screaming in fear once he’d opened the entrance doors, and he was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The poems Gwen could manage to choke up the next day were all about emeralds.

 

She didn’t know why. (She refused to admit why.)


End file.
